Kashmir has a long and rich tradition of poetry. From Lal Ded and Sheikh-ul-Alam to Habba Khatoon, Mahjoor, Rasool Mir and, in more recent times, poets such as Agha Shahid Ali, Kashmiri poets have given voice to the region’s emotions, culture, spirituality and history.
But today, an important question needs to be asked: Are we losing the legacy of our poets, or are we simply losing the habit of reading them?
I believe the problem is not that Kashmiri poetry has disappeared. The poetry is still there. The poets are still remembered. What seems to be changing is our relationship with their work, particularly among younger generations.
The language is still alive.
According to the Government of India’s 2011 Census, Kashmiri continues to be widely spoken in Jammu and Kashmir. The Census records Kashmiri as a major mother tongue and also provides data on people who speak more than one language.
This tells us that Kashmiri itself is certainly not a dead language.
But speaking a language and reading its literature are two different things.
A person may speak Kashmiri every day at home but rarely read a Kashmiri book or poem. This is where the real concern begins.
A language can remain alive in everyday conversation while slowly losing its place in reading, education and literary life.
Our poets are still being remembered
There is also evidence that Kashmiri poetry continues to receive attention.
The Sahitya Akademi regularly organises programmes on Kashmiri writers and poets. In 2026, it organised a symposium in Pulwama on the life and works of Habba Khatoon, one of Kashmir’s most important classical poets. Its events archive also lists programmes connected with Kashmiri writers and literature.
This shows that our literary heritage has not been forgotten.
But again there is a difference between remembering a poet and actually reading a poet.
We may attend a programme about Habba Khatoon, quote Lal Ded on social media or celebrate Mahjoor on an important occasion. But the more important question is: How often do we sit down and actually read their poetry?
That is where we may be falling short.
Are young people moving away from Kashmiri literature?
Research published in Wiley’s journal Nations and Nationalism has looked at the complicated position of the Kashmiri language in the region’s identity and political history.
In his paper, “No place for ‘Kashmiri’ in Kashmiri nationalism,” researcher I. Khandy examines the relationship between language, identity and nationalism in Kashmir.
The research is important because it reminds us that language is not simply about communication. It is also connected to how people understand their history and identity.
Kashmiri has had to exist alongside languages such as Persian, Urdu and, increasingly, English.
Today, English is closely connected with education, jobs, technology and global communication. Urdu remains important in literature, media and religious and cultural life.
Kashmiri, therefore, has to compete for space.
There is nothing wrong with learning English or Urdu. In today’s world, knowing several languages is an advantage.
The problem begins when young people start feeling that Kashmiri is useful only for speaking at home and not for reading, writing or serious discussion.
Agha Shahid Ali gives us another way of looking at the problem
The story of Kashmiri poetry is not only about decline.
The work of poet Agha Shahid Ali shows that Kashmiri experiences and themes can reach readers far beyond Kashmir.
In a research paper written by Upasana Dutta and published by Cambridge University Press under the Cambridge Journal of Postcolonial Literary Inquiry, Dutta describes Shahid’s work through the idea of a “poetics of rupture.”
The research explains how Shahid connected his personal and cultural experience of Kashmir with wider literary traditions.
This is important because Shahid did not have to leave Kashmir behind in order to reach a wider audience. He carried Kashmir with him through his poetry.
His work shows that local literature does not have to remain local.
With good writing, translation and new ways of presenting literature, Kashmiri poetry can find readers outside Kashmir as well.
The Cambridge study also refers to a striking observation by Kashmiri poet and academic Rashid Nazki: “The polemics remain, and the poetry dies.”
The line raises an important question for Kashmiri literature.
If poetry becomes only a tool for politics or slogans, do we lose something of the poetry itself?
Our poets should certainly be read in the context of Kashmir’s history and politics. But they should also be appreciated simply as poets, as writers who wrote about love, loneliness, nature, spirituality, separation, suffering and ordinary human emotions.
We should not turn our poets into museum pieces. Perhaps one of the biggest problems is the way we remember our literary figures.
We celebrate Lal Ded.
We celebrate Habba Khatoon.
We remember Mahjoor.
We organise seminars and cultural programmes.
But a literary tradition cannot survive only through celebrations.
A poet’s real legacy is carried forward by readers.
If young people read Lal Ded, discuss her ideas, translate her work and find new meanings in her poems, then her legacy is alive.
If Habba Khatoon’s poetry is read by young people who can connect her emotions with their own lives, then her work remains relevant.
But if these poets exist only in textbooks, speeches and cultural events, their legacy can slowly become distant.
The classroom matters. Schools and colleges can play an important role here.
A young person is unlikely to develop a strong interest in Kashmiri literature if the language is treated as an occasional subject rather than an important part of cultural and intellectual life.
Students should not only be asked to memorise the names of poets.
They should be encouraged to read their poems.
They should be allowed to discuss them, question them and interpret them in their own way.
Imagine a classroom where a student reads a poem by Lal Ded and then discusses what it means in today’s world.
That is much more powerful than simply memorising a paragraph about Lal Ded for an examination.
The digital world could actually help Kashmiri poetry.
There is also a reason to be hopeful.
Young people may not read as many printed books as previous generations, but they spend a great deal of time online.
This does not necessarily mean that young people have stopped caring about poetry.
Perhaps we need to take poetry to where young people are.
Kashmiri poetry can be shared through podcasts, YouTube, Instagram, digital magazines, audiobooks and short video performances.
A poem does not always need to begin its life inside a printed book.
A young person could hear a verse on a phone, become interested in the poet and then look for the complete work.
Technology, therefore, does not have to be the enemy of Kashmiri literature. It could become one of its biggest opportunities.
The real problem may be the lack of readers.
It would be wrong to simply say that Kashmiri poetry is dying.
The evidence does not support such a simple conclusion.
The 2011 Census shows that Kashmiri continues to be widely spoken.
The Sahitya Akademi continues to organise programmes around Kashmiri literature and poets, including a 2026 programme on Habba Khatoon.
Academic researchers continue to study the Kashmiri language and literature. The Wiley study in Nations and Nationalism examines the complicated relationship between the Kashmiri language and identity.
And researchers at Cambridge University Press continue to examine Kashmiri poets such as Agha Shahid Ali and their place in wider literature.
So perhaps the better question is not:
“Is Kashmiri poetry dying?”
Perhaps we should ask:
“Are we creating enough readers for the poetry we have inherited?”
That question is more difficult, and perhaps more useful.
Because the poems are still there.
The books are still there.
The language is still spoken.
But literature cannot survive on memory alone.
It needs readers.
It needs young writers.
It needs teachers, publishers and translators.
And it needs a place in the digital world.
A legacy survives when it is read.
The future of Kashmiri poetry may not depend only on how well we preserve the work of old poets.
It may depend on whether we give the next generation a reason to discover them.
Lal Ded does not need to be remembered only as a historical figure.
Habba Khatoon does not need to exist only as the famous poetess of Kashmir.
Mahjoor should not be reduced to a name in a textbook.
They need to be read as writers whose words can still speak to people.
The greatest tribute we can give our poets is not another speech about their greatness.
It is to read them.
And perhaps, after reading them, to write something of our own.
A literary tradition does not truly disappear when its old poets die. It disappears when the next generation stops reading them.
Sources cited in the article are: Government of India’s 2011 Census data, Sahitya Akademi’s 2026 events archive, Idreas Khandy’s research in Nations and Nationalism, and academic research on Kashmiri poetry published by Cambridge University Press.
